


I Put a Spell On You

by DollyPop



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Canon - Anime, Canon Het Relationship, F/M, Love Potion/Spell, Mutual SteinMarie, One-Sided Attraction, One-Sided Medusa/Stein
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-21 08:12:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6044467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DollyPop/pseuds/DollyPop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>And now you're mine.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>Or, maybe not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Put a Spell On You

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe he's just not that into you.

_"I love you, I love you, I love you anyhow_  
_and I don't care if you don't want me"_  
~Nina Simone

* * *

 

Often, Medusa had to wonder how she ended up with such disgustingly incompetent subordinates. It took seven weeks and three failed potions before she had finally gotten Eruka and Free to collect up the proper ingredients, and she swore she was ready to whip up a batch of painkillers just to dull her migraines.

How damn hard was it to get things for a simple love potion? Her _snake_ could have foraged for the herbs faster than the cowardly frog-girl and her ditz of a wolfboy. If she weren’t immortal, she’d swear she’d have wrinkles.

Well, that, and the fact that she was currently camped out in an 8 year old girl’s body, but that was beside the point.

The point was that, after several botched attempts, multiple murderous thoughts, and all too many questions of what she was doing with her life, she had finally done it. And it was _perfect_. Never before had she constructed such an artfully done potion: it was a beautiful, swirling pink liquid that she spent a good half hour lazily twirling in a gorgeously cut crystal vial. And it was _strong_. Just a drop, just a _sniff_ , would make him hers for his entire life, let alone  if she poured in the entire double-dose she had made.

She was giddy just thinking about it. Franken Stein, ever elusive and  _apparently_ uninterested in her if his constant rejections were to be believed, would finally be hers, and all it took was one measly little potion. Some would call it cheating, but she called it playing smart. After all, regardless of the fact that he didn’t want her, she could change his mind.

Against his will, of course, but a changed mind was still a changed mind.

And she could do so with hardly any effort at all.

The only hitch was that Rachel’s little-girl body was hardly the one she wanted to have when she went to collect him. She was a lot of things, but she was no gambler. The last thing she wanted was for him to fall in love with the child and not with her. She wasn’t planning on wearing Rachel like a meat-suit for much longer. Once she had Stein in her clutches, she could go out and find a proper body. And then everything would be perfect, perfect, perfect.

Until then, it took some thinking before she figured out a plan of action. She could still appear to him as hallucination in her original body, and Eruka would just have to tip the concoction into his drink while Medusa was keeping him distracted with images of the Kishin, intensifying his madness.

Oh, how she loved a mad man.

Almost as much as she loved getting her way.

* * *

If Medusa didn’t still need that stupid lump of a girl Eruka, she would have slaughtered her the instant things started going sour in Patchwork labs. For one, the damned frog was shaking so hard from nerves that the vial she was keeping in her mouth was clattering around, and it had alerted Stein almost immediately.

He was worn down and tired, but he was still the DWMA’s best Meister, and he had Soul Perception on top of it all. Medusa suspects that, were it not for the intensified Kishin’s wavelength, he’d have sensed Eruka instantly, no doubt killing her, and then what would Medusa do? She spent too much time on that potion to have it contaminated by Eruka’s pitiful guts. Medusa swore to find a way to bring the frog from her grave just so she could murder her in the most gruesome possible way if she ended up botching _this_ up.

It was only some quick thinking on Medusa’s part, as per usual, that saved Eruka’s ass. It wasn’t ideal, since she had to mutter a few spells, making it so that Stein was immersed in his waking nightmare, but it disarmed him enough to provide an opening for Eruka to spill in the entire concoction into his half empty coffee-cup. If he was still staying holed up in his lab, she’d have simply commanded Eruka to lace his cigarettes with them, but there was no telling who he’d be around when he lit one up and inhaled in the smoke, so coffee would have to do, no matter how crude it was.

As Stein was lost in his own head while Medusa conjured images of the Kishin and death in his mind, she looked at the cup Eruka was quickly hopping away from, the now-empty vial in her mouth. Medusa smirked when she noted how there was a small puff of pink, taking the shape of something that resembled a skull before it settled down.

It was ready then. The hard part was over: the mixture was entirely tasteless, and she doubted he’d notice the faint, sweet scent with how tortured he already was.

Oh, he was just so cute when he was distraught. And entirely, completely distracted. As his eyes skittered around, his face in his hands, Medusa admired how lovely he looked when he was at her mercy. Soon, that would be his entire life, and her heart throbbed in excitement over the fact.

Feeling almost as giddy as a schoolgirl, Medusa abruptly stopped her spell, reaching her hand out as though she were going to touch Stein. At the last possible moment, when he whirled around, paranoid and sweating, she used her soul protection, hiding herself from his prying, terrified eyes.

Soon, he would be hers. And she could do anything she wanted with him. Maybe she’d even get him a collar with her name on it. How precious would that be?  

He was shaking when he slowly turned back around, looking at his computer screen. She knew he had been attempting to type whatever scientific theory he had, but all that looked back at him was a mess of words, most of them not in English, and he took a shuddering breath in. He reached for his cigarettes, his hands shaking as he tapped one out, bringing it to his mouth. Medusa frowned.

Damn, maybe she _should_ have spiked those, instead. If he left the coffee be, she’d be screwed. And not in the way she wanted to be.

But her spirits soared when he tried to light it, finding that it took three tries before he gave up. His fingers were trembling too hard, and the unlit cigarette dangled from his mouth, looking sad and droopy. He sighed, running a hand through his hair before he chewed on the filter, making a face when the taste of the mushy paper came through.

Medusa watched with bated breath as he plucked the cigarette from his mouth, frowning at the indentations his canines left, before he flicked it to the trash, sliding his glasses off so he could rub his eyes before he shifted his focus back to his coffee.

Medusa had never been more thankful that someone had an addiction in her entire life. He reached for the caffeine like it was the only thing that could keep him alive, and her snake-like eyes lit up, growing excited and huge when he knocked back the entire drink in barely five seconds, treating the black coffee like it was a shot.

_Success._

Medusa chuckled, her voice dropping in pitch as she opened her mouth, purring out his name. “Oh, Stein~” she started, coming close to his ear, and the world seemed to move in slow motion as he gasped, making to whirl around and the instant he saw her he would be hers for eternity and she could do anything she wanted and-

“Franken? Are you alright?”

**No.**

Just as quickly as her hopes had been raised and she could practically taste victory, they were dashed. The lights flicked on, forcing Stein to close his eyes to the newfound brightness, making it so that, mid-whirl, he had missed Medusa’s form.

Instead, when he squinted his eyes open once more, instead of focusing to the left, where Medusa had positioned herself, he looked at the doorway.

Where Marie Mjolnir was, blinking at him with concern and care imprinted on her face.

_Medusa was ready to vomit._

Maba help her, that one eyed bitch was lucky that Medusa was currently nothing more than a soul, or else she would have vector-arrowed the other woman through a window and into her _grave_.

Actually, that sounded like a rather decent idea. And she was feeling rather murderous, besides. The antidote would take forever to make, requiring twice as many ingredients, and administering it to Stein would be even more of a pain. But she would sooner give her soul over to the Reaper on a golden plate than have her precious love-potion used to have Stein fall for his idiotic weapon.

All she could do now was wait for Stein’s face to morph into a blush, a happy grin to contort his face, a lovestruck look to his eyes. Why she was going to torture herself with watching him fall in love in real-time, she didn’t know.

The quiet whisper from inside of her saying that she just wanted to imagine it was directed at her was immediately hushed. She grumbled, but he was beyond hearing her.

Actually, as she took a closer look, she couldn’t help but jolt, feeling her brows rise up.

That wasn’t right.

Why wasn’t his expression changing? Immediately, her mind started going a mile a minute. There was no way she had messed up the potion: it worked on every creature she had tested it on just that morning, and it was freshly ingested, as well, making it most potent. She’d even made sure to concentrate the mixture so he’d get two doses instead of just one, and she had taken extra precautions to ensure prime effectiveness.

So why, then, was Franken Stein not affected?

Maybe he really _was_ incapable of love. The idea made sense, but the potion was supposed to override that: after all, it wasn’t real love the concoction was meant to inspire, but a twisted, almost desperate sort of euphoria that made one addicted to the first person they witnessed. The potion would imprint the image of the first living being the victim would see and send neurological impulses that triggered the areas of the brain necessary for arousal and adoration.

She’d spent four decades perfecting the damn thing and she was proud of her results. Even if there were other ways to get him to be her plaything, love and devotion were simply the easiest tools, and she had used too much time in her past creating the perfect recipe to fail.

Medusa grit her teeth. Perhaps, due to his height and body mass, he simply required some more time for the potion to take effect. After all, from what she’d seen of the dusty Shibusen yearbooks, he was a late bloomer.

Maba, did puberty do him good, though.

Nonetheless, Medusa chewed on her cheek, going through every possible explanation as she glared at the other blonde. Marie walked into the room, making her way to Stein with her golden brows meeting close together as a sign of her concern.

“Franken?” Marie asked, letting both her hands slide off from their original spot at her flared out hips, “what were you doing in the dark?” Medusa was waiting for some sign of the potion’s success, but all she caught was how his gaze flicked to follow the motions Marie’s hands made.

Stein said nothing, only continuing to look at her, but as she neared him, his tensed shoulders seemed to soften, his entire body relaxing in the demon hammer’s presence.

“Franken?” Marie inquired again, likely believing he hadn’t heard her the first few times, walking up to him and looking down at his slumped over form in his chair. As she glanced behind him, looking at what he’d written on the computer and realizing that he’d typed up some garbled text that his hands had simply banged out, her expression grew more concerned. “Are you…alright?”

“Dependent upon definition,” he threw back, his voice still shaky, and Marie shook her head, her expression contorted in care.

“Don’t be an ass,” Marie said gently. “You know what the definition is.”

Silence seemed to stretch in the room, and Medusa could feel her brain cells dying. Maba, he chose to stay in the lab with such stale conversation when he could be with _her_ , instead?

But all Stein did was smile at Marie tiredly, looking spent and in desperate need of a nap and a shave. “You don’t need to worry, Marie,” he told her, and the woman’s scowl in return made him soften even more than before. Medusa was half ready to make the motion to gag, and she felt murderous when Marie only came in closer, hunching down slightly as she looked him in the eyes.

“Don’t be silly,” she replied, her hands coming to adjust his labcoat, smoothing out the crinkles with a loving touch. “It’s my job to worry.”

“Thankless job,” Stein remarked, not making any move to shake Marie’s grasp off of him. If anything, he seemed to lean in.

And, slowly, realization began to dawn on Medusa, her stomach sinking down.

_No._

Marie’s soft giggle, the tender expression on her face was unmistakable. Any moron would be able to see that she was infatuated. Yet, when she said, “Yeah, well. My roommate seems to appreciate it,” in response to Stein’s previous comment, _his_ face morphed into what Medusa could only see as a matching expression.

**No.**

There was absolutely no chance on Earth, Hell, the deepest pits of Tartarus that this was happening. The probability was zero.

He had told her he was incapable of love.

He had blatantly said so in front of his bumbling ex-partner, claiming it as readily as if it were a proven fact that he had tested and drawn conclusions about first-hand.

And yet, there she was, bearing witness to the fact that there was nothing wrong with her love potion. There never had been. It was just useless in regards to him.

Like dissolves like, Medusa remembered. The love potion would have no affect if he was _already_ in love. It would simply be filtered out, rendered harmless and useless due to the already existing hormones and feelings.

Medusa felt something shake inside of her, the stinging harsh and furious. She couldn’t believe, she didn’t _want_ to believe that Franken Stein, her perfect man, plaything, object, _toy_ , preferred that one-eyed, directionally challenged, marriage obsessed _bitch_ to _her_.

And yet, there was no denying it. Marie’s hands didn’t drop from his collar, and he seemed grounded and comforted by being around her. She quietly told him that she had made dinner, and his small smile twitched the slightest bit wider. She had heard the dialogue before, of course, through the radio that picked up on all the conversations Marie had, but she would have never guess that he would look like that in regards to it.

With a pang, she realized it was nothing like when he had fought with her, when she thought he looked so alive and expressive, so twisted and harsh. Then, under the DWMA, fighting for their lives, his grin had stretched the stitches on his face, made him look demented.

He was a handsome man, especially so when there was bloodlust and the desire to murder painted on his face, and oh, how she wanted him.

But there was a different kind of desire, this time, a different kind of life. Instead of unhinged and off balance he looked content, at peace, and as much as she was loathe to admit it, the expression he had now was equally as appealing. His features smoothed out, his jaw somehow looking sharper in contrast to the tender scrap of smile on his face, his eyes lit up.

He looked _alive_.

If she had a physical body, she would throw up. What world was she living in where some candle-in-the-wind weapon woman was more appealing than _she_ was?

The jealousy twisted inside of her, twisted her stomach into a noose, her heart hissing in her chest, snarling for revenge.

She watched as Stein’s hands came over Marie’s, gently loosening her hold on him before he stood up, letting his touch linger on her skin for a moment too long. And he still took no notice of _her_ while Marie was in the room, his mind entirely focused on his weapon-partner.

Medusa made up her mind right then and there: she was going to push her off the damn roof.

If she couldn’t have him, she’d damn well make sure that no one else would.


End file.
